Alpha's Regret, Queen's Revenge

HAILEY QUINN

I crept through the still halls of the packhouse, my feet bare and silent on the freezing, creaky wooden floor. The building always seemed to weigh heavily at this time, as if the walls themselves bore the burden of secrets too black to ever be spoken. Bleak morning light poured through the grimy windows, rendering jagged shadows that crawled across the walls. They shadowed me, a perfect picture of my existence-always lurking in the background, always ignored.

Mornings were not good news, not promises of a new day to me. They were heavy chains. Chains that dragged me along with never-ending tasks, never-ending pain, and never-ending reminders I did not belong.

My ribs hurt with every breath, bruises swelling on my flesh from yesterday's torments. I winced when I crouched down to pick up a shoe left in the corridor. I didn't care who had lost it. If Luna spotted it on the floor, it would be my doing, of course. That was how things stood here. Facts didn't matter.

I had learnt all those years ago that standing up for myself, defending myself, and even grumbling "it wasn't me" made things worse.

I was the orphan. The wolfless one. The useless one.

Since my mother passed away, the Alpha and Luna of the Cedar Pack had "taken me in". But I was not a daughter. I was not even a servant. I was a punching bag, a shadow, a girl who had to endure cruelty disguised as charity.

"She's wolfless," I always heard behind my back. Weak.

No wolf, no value. That's how things were here.

As I stepped into the kitchen, the air within it was heavy and sour. Dirty plates from last night's feast were spilling over in the sink, scraps of food rotting in cold grease. My stomach churned, yet I rolled up my sleeves and started washing, water biting at my bruised hands. I washed in silence, the noise of the water drowning out the storm in my heart.

That's when she spoke up.

Armenia, my wolf, my secret.

"They don't deserve us, Hailey," she growled softly, her voice low and heat-filled, a warmth wrapped in flames providing me with the much-needed heat I so desperately desired. "Let me out. I'll show them what real strength is."

I closed my eyes, fighting against the pricking in them. "We can't," I whispered in my throat.

And then my mother's voice arose in my memory, as vividly as if she were standing by my side. The world will fear what it doesn't know. Make Amenia a secret, my love. Promise me.

I had vowed, and so I endured. The taunts. The punches. The shame. All for Amenia to be kept a secret.

That night, as I was dusting the grand hallway, I heard something strange. Guttural noises. A mixture of moans and whimpers that chilled me to my bones. Irresponsible as it was, I crept towards the Alpha's quarters, drawn by curiosity I knew would harm me only.

And what I saw nearly gave me a heart attack.

The Alpha, the Luna, the Beta, the Gamma... they were all engaged in some dirty, grim activity. The Luna stood bent while the Alpha's balls are deep inside her, and her head bobs on the Beta's dick, and the Gamma has his mouth on her nipples, and the Beta has his mouth on the female's Gamma nipples. I stood there numb as groans could be heard as men took turns with her, their bodies jerking around like animals, as lust itself appeared to have gotten hold of them. My chest constricted with revulsion. The mate's bond was meant to be sacred, something pure, but here it was twisted and broken into something filthy.

I moved back, my steps quiet. I shuddered as I leaned against the wall, trying to get the vision out of my head. This was the Cedar Pack. This was what we were to follow, to honour. My lips shook, but I remained silent. I couldn't.

Before dawn's first light, I had pushed the vision deep inside, burying it under the merciless work. The hall sparkled, the kitchen shone, and breakfast was ready even before the first pack members stirred. But when the Luna came in, her unnerving eyes swept over everything and pinched.

"This is not good enough," she smirked, her voice slicing through me with knives. "More effort from you the next time, please."

"Yes, Luna," I breathed, my gaze on the floor.

The rest of the day blurred in work and cruelty. Dishes were hurled at me when they didn't like what was served. Mud boots scraped over floors I'd just cleaned. Plants swaying from hallways when I bent to dust, welts screaming every time I moved. By night, my body is heavy, my spirit exhausted.

And so, as on so many previous nights, I slipped out the back door into the forest. The trees were my sole solace. In their midst, the air felt less heavy. There, I could breathe.

But then I heard my name "Hailey!"

The word made me pause, Chilly, authoritative, merciless.

I moved slowly, and he was there. Thomas Cedar, the Alpha's son. Future pack leader. All a future Alpha would be-broad shoulders, angular jaw, a power that radiated from him. But his eyes... his eyes were always tinged with disgust when they came to me.

"Come here," he ordered. No argument.

My steps were hesitant, but I obeyed. The closer I came, the more his smell wrapped around me-pine and cedar, pungent and earthy. My chest tightened. Heat ran through me, deep, wild, unstoppable.

My breath caught. My knees trembled.

Mate.

The connection exploded through me, irresistible, untamed. My heart thrashed as I looked at him, certain he could feel it too.

But instead of joy, his face twisted in anger. His jaw clenched, fists curled.

"You," he snarled, contempt in his voice. "You're my mate? The Moon Goddess must be joking."

The words hurt more than any punch I had ever received.

He laughed afterwards, a harsh and cruel one, shaking his head. "The Moon Goddess is having a twisted joke."

Tears pricked my eyes, but I hardened myself. My lips trembled, my voice an unsteady whisper. "I... I'm your mate."

His eyes turned icy, his face as hard as steel before he said the words that ripped me apart.

"I, Thomas Cedar, reject you, Hailey Quin, as my mate."

The bond burnt. Flames of searing pain cut across my chest, indepth pain, ripping my soul apart. I gagged, tears streaming down my cheeks as my legs buckled out from under me. The time that was supposed to be filled with love, redemption, freedom... was filled with pain and destruction.

But amidst the pain, I stood up straight. My voice shook, but it remained strong. "I, Hailey Quin, accept your rejection."

The pain doubled, stinging, blinding, before flattening into an aching empty space. The bridge was broken, severed, so that only an emptiness remained where hope had been.

Thomas looked at me, waiting, as if he figured I would beg, kneel and plead for mercy. I didn't, so he laughed and strode away.

And just like that, he disappeared. Disappeared in the trees and left me crumpling on the forest floor, fighting for air.

There were muffled sobs that rocked my frame. My illusions had been shattered in a second. I had fantasised about this moment my whole life, fantasised about finding home, love, someone who would see me and now. nothing.

"You deserve than this, Hailey," Amenia whispered inside of me, her tone strong, unbreakable. "He doesn't deserve us. None of them do."

I wiped away my tears, my body still trembling, but inside of me something shifted. Something hardened.

I had endured years of brutality. Years of silence. Years of nothing.

No more.

That night, standing beneath the dark sky, I swore.

I didn't know why or when. But I would be leaving. I would be leaving this place. I would be running from the Cedar Pack, from their cruelty, from their hypocrisy. I would be breaking free from the chains that bound me here.

And someday... someday, they would know who I truly was. Not the wolfless orphan. Not the useless servant. Not the rejected mate.

But Hailey Quin.

Vessel to such powerful wolf, the the world hadn't prepared for. A woman hardened by suffering, sharpened by rejection, and destined for bigger things than this cell.

I tilted my chin, wiping tears from my face.

One day, I'd be free.

HAILEY

The packhouse hovered above me, its shadow stretching across the worn stone path as I mounted the creaking stairs; the weight of the laundry basket tugged at my arms, heavy with the scent of detergent, damp fabric, and bleach that clung to my skin. It was as if the building lived and breathed through its thick walls and heavy beams, exuding an unshakeable power weighing upon me like a cage of a reminder of my place within this space of elitism.

None of the clothes in the basket belonged to me. They never did. My days had turned into a monotonous cycle of scrubbing floors, folding linens, and tending to tasks nobody else would touch. It wasn't just work; it was a prison. And the walls felt closer and suffocating every day. Hope looks like such an impossible fantasy.

But something was off today. The air vibrated with tension, an electric feeling I couldn't quite place. The source? Marissa Devaro. The pack had spent weeks preparing for her arrival, and now she was here-Thomas's chosen mate, his perfect, noble-born match. She was everything I wasn't: beautiful, powerful, and utterly ruthless. The only child of a billionaire Alpha who had died in a plane crash with his Luna, making her his only heir, yet she's greedy for more power; her stories are whispered about everywhere.

Cheers rang on in the packhouse, and feasts were held to welcome her, including music and bright flowers. Except that Marissa wasn't some visiting guest for an immediate takeover. Her coldness oozed out and crept into even the very edges of the pack, and somehow I was just her target. Being the rejected one didn't seem to appease her, as if my presence threatened whatever her plans were, yet I had no regret about being rejected by that jerk; nothing good could come out of loving a monster like him.

Halfway up the staircase, I cut my breath with the razorlike silence when her voice ripped like a whip:

"Hailey!"

I froze, my heart plummeting as the basket wobbled in my grasp. Her voice was sharp, oozing condescension, and I could already tell how this was going to go. I turned slowly to face her, standing at the far end of the hall, her golden hair shining in the gloom like polished steel. Her pale blue eyes flicked to me, cold, calculating.

"Yes, Luna?" I said softly, bowing my head in submission, hoping she'd lose interest.

Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Don't call me that," she snapped. "You're not one of us. You don't get to use that title."

I swallowed hard. "Yes, Marissa." I fold my hands before me.

Her heels clicked slowly on the floor as she neared me deliberately to torture me. She stopped before me, only a few inches separating us, and her eyes glided over me as though I were some sort of dirt beneath her feet.

"Thomas told me about you," she said, her tone smooth and cruel. "Hailey Quin, poor little reject. How tragic."

Her words cut, opening old wounds I had desperately tried to bury. I clutched the basket tighter, digging my fingers into the fabric as I stared at the floor. I just would not give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

"What's wrong? Still holding on to some pathetic hope that Thomas will come back to you?" Her laughter then came sharp and cutting. "Let me save you the embarrassment, don't.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to say nothing, then changed my mind and whispered, "No, I'm not."

"Good," she said, her smirk spreading. "Because he's mine now. And I don't ever want to see your pathetic face near him. Understood?"

"Yes," I muttered.

"Yes, what?" Her voice was as cold as steel, commanding.

"Yes, Marissa," I said through gritted teeth, my cheeks burning with humiliation.

Her smile twisted into something sickly sweet as she reached out and patted my cheek, her touch mocking. "Good girl. Now let's see if you can manage to be useful."

She turned on her heel and went down the stairs, leaving me to follow after. My legs felt like lead as I went down after her, every step heavy with dread.

The dining hall was a disaster zone: leftover food everywhere, hanging linens like ghosts, and the smell of wine that had been spilt sometime in the air. It was a scene of excess, an aftermath of a night well spent for Marissa and Thomas.

"Clean it," she ordered, flicking her wrist at the chaos. "And hand-wash the tablecloth. That fabric is too delicate for the machine."

My hands curled into fists, the sting of my nails grounding me as I nodded. "Of course, Marissa."

She leaned against the doorframe, watching me with a smile that was more predator than person. "I'm glad you know your place.

Hours passed. My hands were raw from scrubbing, my arms burning from wringing out the heavy fabric. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest, but I kept going. This wasn't just about cleaning – it was about survival. I couldn't afford to break, not here, not now; there's still so much to do. Amenia is bristling around inside me, and it has taken almost all my strength to shut her down because she just wants to snap everybody's necks and be done with it, but that can't be done, so I keep my head bowed and do what I need to do till I can leave.

She came back, her face as cold as ever, with an uninspected, slow, deliberate stare, running a perfectly manicured finger over the edge of the table.

"I suppose this will do-for someone like you," she said, the words twisting the knife.

I bit the inside of my cheek and kept my head down.

She leaned in close, her warm breath cold words: "Don't forget – you're nothing. And you'll always be nothing."

The words fell like a blow, yet I didn't flinch. I refused to. I exhaled, a slow and steady breath, as she began to walk away from me, heels clacking against the floor. I breathe in and out, calming Amenia.

They could mock me. They could try and break me. But they never got to define me. One day, I'd prove them wrong.

I straightened my back and swung to the window. The sun poured in, soft and gold. It reached deep inside me and touched that something hard and unrelenting, that fire they couldn't snuff out.

One day, I promised myself, one day they'll see, and then they'd realise just what they had.

HAILEY

My ceiling cracks had become a constant map of pain. Each night, I woke in my tiny bed, and I traced them out with my eyes, following the jagged edges like roads to nowhere.

It was on one of these nights, with everything closing in around me, that the thought came.

I can't stay here any longer.

Marissa's recent cruelty had left fresh bruises, not just on my skin, but somewhere deeper-inside where hope had once been. The pack's whispers, the sneers, the contempt in their eyes-it was not new. The Cedar pack had made me feel like nothing, invisible, disposable, all along. Tonight, the emptiness inside me was unbearable.

The packhouse had never been home. It was a cage, made of tall walls of stone and rules designed to suffocate, where every eye judged and criticised. If I stayed, I would slowly fade away in silence until nothing was left of me but dust.

But running off was not enough. I did not simply want to escape-I wanted to live.

Whispers came back to me. Gossip that I had heard months before when nobody thought I had been paying attention: the human world outside the pack border. A place filled with people, with work for whoever was willing to do it. Humans, too engrossed in their own problems, would not notice a battered girl among them. If I could earn money, I could save and maybe someday create a life beyond the Cedar's reach.

It was stupid and dangerous, but what did I have to lose anymore?

The idea gripped deep, growing stronger with every day like a weed between the cracks in a stone. Every jab from Marissa, every hard stare from the others, fed it. By the fourth night, it had taken root, and I was finally ready to leave.

That evening, after the packhouse had settled into its tense silence, I rose. My heart was pounding so violently that I knew it could wake the walls themselves. I slipped out of bed, trembling fingers unbuttoning frayed jeans and a threadbare shirt. My shoes were thin, their soles worn smooth from years of farmwork. They'd not travel far, but they'd travel through every unfair walk I ever took.

My breathing was in little gasps as I crept down the corridor, shadows closing around me.

"Amenia?" I whispered, my voice hardly louder than the silence.

"I'm here," my wolf answered, her voice smooth and steady, an anchor in the storm of fear. "Stay quiet. I'll watch."

Her strength surrounded me like a cloak. We were two souls in one frail body, and together we had endured more than our share of cruelty.

I stalled at the back door. The enormous door loomed above me like the edge of a cliff. Once it was opened, we could not return. My fingers shook as I pushed, the hinges protesting loudly. I stood still, swallowed a gasp, holding my ear.

No footsteps. No sounds.

The night breeze greeted me, the dewy grass caressed my toes, and the woods stretched out before me-dark, limitless, and ominous, but it was the path to freedom.

I walked carefully, every step heavy; sticks snapped, leaves scraped, and every sound echoed like thunder. My heartbeatcontinuously sped up, every thud a countdown. I knew patrols did not venture this far under the cover of darkness, but fear of capture hung around me like a secondary skin.

"We're nearly there," Amenia breathed, her voice calm to my frazzled nerves.

I nodded, my throat too tight for speech.

As the trees thinned and the faint light of the human town came into view, relief hit me so hard I stumbled. There it was-the diner. Its dull sign hanging weakly against the black sky, alternating but unbroken, shining like a broken beacon. Compared to the oppressive blackness of the forest, it felt welcoming. Almost safe.

I buried my dripping hands in my jeans, breathed deeply, and swung the door open.

The smell hit me first: coffee, bacon, grease-all warm, comforting scents that belonged to a world not my own. The diner itself was small, its black-and-white checkered floor worn thin by decades of use. Red leather booths near the windows were worn soft, seams cracking in places. Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman worked to wipe the counter with swift strokes. Her keen, assessing eyes met mine at once.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice level but not unkind.

I had a parched throat, but I forced grit into my words. "I... I'm looking for work."

She looked at me-my rumpled hair, my frayed clothes, the fatigue etched on every line of me-yet she never commented.

"You're in luck," she said after a beat. "Our dishwasher broke down yesterday. Can you handle it?"

"Yes," I said quickly."I'll work hard. I promise."

Another silence stretched between us before she finally agreed. "Name's Helen. You start tonight."

Relief struck me so strongly that my knees trembled. She led me to the kitchen, a clang of banging pots, sputtering fryers, and piles of dirty dishes. She handed me an apron.

"It's not glamorous, but it's honest," she said. "Stick with it, and there'll be no trouble."

I will," I promised, my voice thick with gratitude.

The dishwashing was never-ending. Hot water scalded my hands, steam clung to my skin, and my muscles screamed with the constant scrubbing, but I didn't mind. For the first time in years, I wasn't useless. For the first time, I was doing something I found myself. Every plate I washed, every counter I cleaned, was proof I could make a life the pack couldn't touch. Hope flared in me. There's hope for tomorrow.

Later, after hours of furious clatter in the kitchen, Helen slipped an envelope into my hand.

"Good work tonight," she said, gently now. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes," I said quickly, clinging to the envelope as if it were a lifeline. "Thank you."

As I took a step back into darkness, the cold of the air bit into skin, but pride smouldered within me like fire. I had done it. For the first time in my life, I'd walked my own path.

A low laugh rent the stillness of the night as I walked, and my heart froze.

Two shapes appeared out of the darkness, their outlines taking form beneath the silver light of the moon. Pack warriors.

"Where do you think you're going?" one taunted, his voice dripping with contempt.

The envelope trembled in my palm. Fear overflowed, scratching at my breast. How did they find me?

The second warrior grinned with malice. "The Alpha will be glad. If you can escape, you can accept the punishment."

Amenia roared in my head. "Run." Immediately I ran, covering the envelope in my fist, lungs burning as the woods engulfed me again. I couldn't shift-not here. No one could discover Amenia. If the pack discovered my secret, they'd kill us both.

Branches tore at my sleeves, and roots tried to sweep me away, but I never stopped. The money held in my fist was not mere paper-it was promise, hope and freedom.

But they were faster. They were more powerful. Their pursuit thundered behind me until one of them tackled me. My cheek cracked into earth, pain flashing over my face. The envelope was snatched from my grasp.

"No!" I screamed, clawing at the earth, reaching for it.

A fistfulof my hair was grabbed by a warrior, yanking me back. Blazing pain shot through my scalp.

"You thought you could get away?" The warrior growled, his hot, bitter breath in my ear. "You thought you could leave?"

The other pocketed the envelope, shaking it like a prize. "All this, for bits of human money. Pathetic."

I wept, rage and desperation fought within my chest. I had risked everything, and with a brutal moment, it was all lost.

Yet below the terror, something untamed stirred to life. Amenia's tone was quiet and unmoving. "This isn't the end, Hailey. They haven't crushed us yet."

I stood frozen. Tears were still on my face, but a fierce anger fuelled my eyes. They thought they had won. They thought returning me would be enough.

But I had felt freedom tonight, and once felt, it could never be taken away.

Even if they punished me and jailed me. I would escape this hell.